


Home Sweet Home

by MissSlothy



Series: Jot it down July [3]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-06-06 04:15:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15186554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissSlothy/pseuds/MissSlothy
Summary: Steve's usually very observant.  But sometimes you can't see what is right in front of you.Written for Jot it down July.  Friday is Fluffday.





	Home Sweet Home

**Author's Note:**

> Part of the ‘Jot it down July’ challenge on Tumblr. Thanks to @tari-aldarion and @nihilvanum for starting this challenge :)
> 
> This one is for Friday which is Fluffday.

Steve parks his truck on his driveway and switches off the engine.  Exhaling low and hard he slumps back in the seat.  He lets his eyes drift closed.

The heavy fabric of his Navy dress blues are suffocating him.  Even with the truck’s A/C he feels like he’s wrapped in a blanket.  He’d meant to take his jacket off as soon as he’d left Pearl.  Agitated and distracted he’d forgotten.  Now his white shirt is sticking to his back.

The mission to Nigeria to rescue Joe had raised a shitload of questions.  Four months later and they’re still dealing with the fallout.  Today had been the final hearing at Pearl.  As a highly decorated twenty-year veteran he’d been given some leeway.  It’d been made clear though he was running out of credit.  Junior, on the other hand, had looked like a deer in the headlights as he’d been questioned on why he’d shared highly classified information.

Steve feels guilty as hell about that. 

With a sigh he opens his eyes again.  Tucking his fingers under the knot of his tie he wiggles it lose.  Popping open the top button open, he grabs his cover from the passenger seat.  Getting out of the truck reminds him he’s still wearing his jacket.  As he heads for the house he pops the buttons on that too.

Danny’s Camaro is parked next to the house.  It’s in the spot Junior would have parked before he’d got his own place.  Steve runs his hand over the hood.  It’s cold.  As he gets to the door he understands why Danny’s been at his house for so long: the smell of cooking wafts through the air.

Steve licks his lips.  His stomach rumbles in anticipation. 

“I’m home, darling,” he yells, as he closes the door behind him.  It’s a running joke he and Danny have.   Danny spends more time at Steve’s house than he does his own.  Enough time that they’d repainted the spare bedroom.

There’s a grunt of acknowledgement from the kitchen.  It’s accompanied by the clunk of pans and plates.

Steve smiles to himself as he inhales the delicious smell of food.  As the scent hits his nostrils he can feel the tension flow out of his shoulders.  His spine pops as he stretches.  He squishes up his toes in his dress shoes.

Suddenly feeling so much better, he heads for the stairs.  He makes quick work of showering and changing into a tee-shirt and sweat pants.  Grabbing a clean towel, he scrubs at his hair.

He’s halfway down the stairs when the memory hits him.  His butt hits the bottom step. 

In his mind he’s fifteen years old again.  His football kit’s on the floor by the front door where he’s just dumped it.  Out the back of the house he can hear his Dad on the phone.  Football training that evening had been particularly brutal, he’s starving, he could eat a horse. 

Wandering into the kitchen he can smell tomato pasta sauce and garlic bread.  It’s his favourite, his mom always makes a huge bowl of it.  Mare won’t eat all hers so he always gets seconds.  His mom’s at the cooker, she’s got her back to him.  Tiptoeing in, he reaches out very slowly for the cookie jar.

He’s almost there, _so_ close, his hand’s hovering over the lid.  Then she turns her head slowly, to look at him. 

With a huff he concedes defeat.  He’s got no idea how she does that, it doesn’t matter how quiet he is.  It’s like she’s got eyes in the back of her head.

She mock scowls at him, threatening him with the spatula she’s holding.  The laughter in her eyes gives her away.  Grinning, he lopes back into the living room to slump onto the sofa and watch TV.

“Steve?”

Blinking, he comes back to himself.  Except, it’s like he’s still trapped in his memory.  The smell of tomato pasta sauce is so strong he can taste it.  The general feeling of happiness – of being content – still lingers in his bones.

“Earth to Steve.  Come in, Steve.”

Danny’s tone is faintly mocking but Steve doesn’t miss the worry in his eyes.  Giving himself a mental shake, Steve forces himself to focus.  “Tired,” he explains, waving away Danny’s concern.  Pushing himself to his feet, he flicks the towel over his shoulder.

Danny considers him for a moment, his bottom lip stuck out.  “How’d the hearing go?”

“Fine.”  Danny’s expression morphs from concerned to doubtful.  “It wasn’t that bad,” Steve admits around a sigh.  “It could have been worse.”

Danny still looks doubtful but he nods anyway.  Resting his hand on Steve’s elbow, he gently steers him to the kitchen.  “Let me guess. You didn’t eat, huh?” he fusses. “How the hell you survived on your own in the Army is beyond me…

Steve lets him carry on talking.  Danny doesn’t seem to be expecting an answer so he just lets the words flow over him.  He’s been running on adrenaline all day and now he’s crashing.  He hopes dinner is ready otherwise he’s going to embarrass himself and fall asleep in his food.

His prayers are answered.  A bowl of food appears under his nose, steaming lightly.  Swallowing a yawn he picks up his utensils.  Looking down, his heart skips a beat.

Danny’s cooked them tomato sauce and pasta.

Across the table, Danny’s frowning at him.  Looking down, Steve realises why.  He’s rubbing at his chest, running his fingers over his tee-shirt in small circles.  Stopping the rubbing, he presses his fingertips into his chest instead.

Danny’s rising from his chair.  Steve shakes his head: he’s fine.  It’s not pain he’s rubbing at.  It’s warmth.  It’s radiating from his sternum, filling his chest cavity, flowing through his bones.

He’s _home_.

Steve absorbs the knowledge, a smile slowly growing on his lips.  Not long ago he’d told Junior he’d never had a place of his own but now he realises he’d been lying.  This house, it used to belong to his parents.  Now it _belongs_ to him.  And Danny.

Looking around the kitchen he sees what he’s been missing while he’s been dealing with all the shit that’s being going on.  There are pictures of Grace and Charlie on his fridge door.  Danny’s knife block set is on the worktop – right where Danny left it months ago.  Danny’s clothes are in the laundry pile.  The chalkboard hanging in the corner has Danny’s scrawl on it, reminding Steve he’s run out of milk. 

Sitting across from him, Danny stares back.  Outwardly he looks relaxed, he looks calm.  But he swallows hard as Steve studies him.  Looking down, he half-heartedly twirls his spaghetti around his fork, suddenly very interested in his tomato sauce.

Steve wets his lips.  “Danny.” 

The fork twists faster.

Steve leans over the table.  Wrapping his hand over Danny’s, he lays the fork down.  “ _Danny_.”

Exhaling loudly, Danny reluctantly raises his eyes to meet Steve’s. 

Steve’s heart clenches at the uncertainty he sees there.  Danny’s been hurt badly, he’s scared to risk everything for love again.  But for the last year he’s been courting Steve.  He’s been _courting_ him.  With hindsight, he realises, Danny’s done everything except buy him a dozen red roses.

It’s not as much of a surprise as Steve thinks maybe it should be.  Part of him wonders if he did actually know what was going on.  Despite everything that’ve happened in his life recently, deep down he’s been happy _._ Perhaps he hadn’t wanted to rock the boat.

Danny shifts in his chair, collecting up his plate of half-eaten food.  His head’s gone back down, his shoulders hunched.

Steve’s not sure afterwards if it’s actually a conscious decision to kiss Danny.  One thing he does know: it’s not a decision he regrets.  Danny freezes for a moment but then he’s moving, pulling Steve around the kitchen table so they’re pressed up against each other.  Sliding his hands into the back pockets of Steve’s sweatpants, he cups his ass and tugs.

Steve groans, rolls his hips so Danny’s hands slip lower.  Claiming Danny’s lips again he applies pressure.  Heat pools at the base of his spine.

Dinner forgotten they head for the couch, a tangle of questing limbs.  Steve’s last coherent thought is; ‘ _I love you_.’ 

His heart soars when Danny whispers it back.

The End

 


End file.
